


Dwarf Fashions

by Virtuella



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-20
Updated: 2010-11-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 07:26:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtuella/pseuds/Virtuella
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ioreth has an unexpected encounter in the streets of Minas Tirith.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dwarf Fashions

The sun shone down pleasantly on the streets of Minas Tirith, a gentle breeze brought in the fresh air of the surrounding country-side, and the people of the city enjoyed the mild caress of the early summer weather. Ioreth the Healer was taking a stroll in the fourth circle with her kinswoman Ninraen, who had come for a visit from Imloth Melui. They were engaged in cheerful chatter, examining herbs and fabrics at the market stalls, nodding greetings to people as they walked past. It was the seventh year of the reign of King Elessar, and life was good for most of the people, most of the time. Suddenly, Ninraen stopped.

 

“Ioreth,” she said, “look at that shop. Was that there yesterday?”

“Of course it was,” replied the healer without even looking. “It has always been there.”

Her kinswoman cocked her head to one side. “You know, I could have sworn there was no shop when we came along here yesterday.”

 

Ioreth, now she came to think of it, wasn’t so sure anymore. It was a busy part of the city and there were shops here, there and everywhere. There could have always been a shop here. There ought to have always been a shop here. It was just that at this precise instant, she could not remember having seen it before. They drew closer and took notice of the uncommonly large, glazed window and the display of miscellaneous merchandise behind it. Assorted kitchenware was arranged among other, more mysterious looking items. There were copper pots and quartz bracelets and a stuffed badger and various contraptions, the use of which they could not even guess.

 

A jingling of little bells made them look round and they saw a dwarf coming out of the shop door.

 

It had to be a dwarf. There was the helmet and the beard and, of course, the height. It couldn’t be anything other than a dwarf, but…

 

The two women stared. Dwarfs were no uncommon sight in Minas Tirith anymore, due to the king’s friend having brought so many of them into the city to restore it to its former glory. However this dwarf was different. He was curiously attired, to say the least. All dwarfs wore helmets, that went without saying, and the shiny breastplate, while a bit outlandish, looked proper, too. The badge on it was the first unusual touch. Dwarfs did not go in for displays of military rank, but this one clearly wore a metal badge. It was shaped like a shield and marked with strange lettering. But it was further downwards that the really disconcerting sight clamoured for attention. For the dwarf wore an ankle length green leather _skirt_. And when their eyes darted up again in astonishment, they encountered the small matter of the jewellery…

 

“He’s wearing earrings!” whispered Ninraen, while the dwarf glanced around with a puzzled expression. He seemed perturbed by something and absentmindedly stroked his beard. Then he turned towards the women and addressed them in an incomprehensible language.

 

“Are you a stranger to these parts, my good sir?” inquired Ioreth with all the courtesy she could muster in her bewilderment.

 

The dwarf replied with more unintelligible words and made a vague gesture that indicated the whole surroundings.

 

In accordance to an unwritten universal law concerning the dealings with foreigners, Ninraen spoke loudly and slowly: “We do not un-der-stand what you are say-ing. Can you speak Wes-tron?”

 

The dwarf looked increasingly worried. He pulled out a small box from the bag that hung over his shoulder. As he did so, a small rectangular piece of card fell out of the bag and onto the cobbles. But all eyes were fixed on the box, which was intriguing indeed. It sported several levers and buttons and had an odd looking round attachment at one side. The strange dwarf held the box in front of his eyes with the attachment facing outwards. He made a movement with his index finger and the women heard a sound:

 

Click!

 

Alarmed, the women backed away, but nothing untoward seemed to happen. The dwarf swerved round and pointed the box at some of the buildings and along the street.

 

Click! Click! Click!

 

Then he thrust the box into the bag and with one last nervous look around stepped back into the shop.

 

Ioreth and Ninraen turned around to see if anybody else had witnessed this baffling scene, but the other citizens went about their business unconcerned. A Guard of the Citadel rode past, clad in his magnificent garb. A farmer was driving a group of fat pigs towards the cattle market. Ioreth and Ninraen waved to a neighbour, who was hurrying along with a basket of rhubarb.  When they looked back at the shop, their eyes met a smooth white wall.

 

“Where is that shop gone?” asked Ninraen.

 

Slowly, Ioreth shook her head. “What shop could you mean, cousin? I told you there wasn’t a shop there. Never has been. I’ve lived here all my life, and I would know if there was a shop here, wouldn’t I?”

 

“But that dwarf just went into it!”

 

“Nay, he can’t have. If he had, then there would have to be a shop here, wouldn’t there? We must have been dreaming. There’s no such thing as a dwarf with long, dangly earrings”

 

“But we’ve seen…”

 

The two women walked away, bickering. Some time later a young lad picked up the piece of card from between the cobble stones. He couldn’t read the peculiar letters, otherwise he would have known that it said…

 

 

 **C.Littlebottom**

 **Forensic Department**

 **Ankh-Morpork**   
**City**   
**Watch**

 **Pseudopolis Yard**

 **  
_Fabricati Diem Punc_   
**

 

 

 

 **  
  
**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Middle-earth belongs to Tolkien and the Wandering Shops and Ms Littlebottom are Terry Pratchett’s.
> 
>  
> 
> PS: I trust Cheery found her way home again. ;-)


End file.
